In Tergum Cultro
by Mattwho81
Summary: Pyrus squad are confronted by mystery and betrayal in the depths as they as they seek to discern friend from foe. This story is a sequel to my previous story Finis fide.
1. Chapter 1

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter 1**

The sewer was a long stretch of bare brickwork tapering off into the distance punctuated with occasional drains, rusted ladders and access covers. From the drains ran trickles of chemical run offs, raw human sewage and the decomposing corpses of small scavengers creating a repulsive stream of waste running down the centre of the space. Diseased vermin scuttled through the mess and fought with hooked legged spiders to gnaw mouldy meat from white bones.

They were sent fleeing by a sudden stab of light penetrating the absolute darkness and the sound of movement approaching fast. The vermin ran before a line of giant figures waded through the reeking sewage, their dark blue armour stained with filthy grime up to the kneecaps.

There were eight of them each a giant in smooth ceramite bearing the dark blue and grey colours of the Storm Heralds Chapter. At their head was Sergeant Toran bearing a chainsword and bolt pistol and he swept the tunnel for threats as he advanced. Close behind him was a giant in thick Mark III plate, it was Borther Furion and he trudged along with the top of his helm brushing against the tunnel roof.

Furion bore the weight of a Heavy Flamer with ease keeping its dual nozzles well away from the wet floor. The flamer was not typically assigned to a devastator squad but then Pyrus squad had a reputation for being unorthodox and Captain Phalros of Ninth Company had agreed it was perfect for tunnel fighting. Without needing to be told the rest of the squad was keeping back, even when wearing power armour nobody was foolish enough to get in the way of a Heavy Flamer.

The Space Marines filed along through the putrid muck then behind them came a line of servitors trudging mindlessly loaded down with packs of demolition charges. Finally came a huddle of red clad figures festooned with augmetic implants, the dreaded Skitarii warriors of the Adpetus Mechanicus.

The large party of altered humans proceed cautiously through the darkness, alert for motion detectors, auspex sweeps and tripwires. From behind the leaders Halis Paur waded along, kicking aside floating fragments of human waste as he said, "I know I said that we get all the crap assignments but I never meant it this literally."

"This is an important duty" called Furion from the front, "Fourth Company is driving the rebels from outer city above us but even they cannot storm the Inner Wall without heavy casualties. That Bastion is the only real obstacle in the whole city, they will be slaughtered once they enter the kill zones. We have to create a breach point from below so our brothers can burn out the heart of the rebellion on Caminus."

"So Fourth Company gets covered in glory and we get covered in excrement" replied Halis cynically.

Further back Brother Ophelian piped up and said "What I don't understand is why we are putting such effort into prosecuting a simple civilian rebellion. It is not like there are great factories on Caminus to recover and the planets' resources are bountiful enough... so why not just level this whole stinking city from orbit and be done with it."

It was a typical thing for him to say for Ophelian was a ruthless warrior with a chilling disregard for life. In any situation he simply chose the most direct path to victory and would not hesitate to discard someone the instant they ceased to be of use. Toran had tried to impress on him the need to minimise collateral damage but to Ophelain there was the Emperor and the Chapter and everything else was irrelevant.

Furion replied, "This is an old world, there are Mechanicus shrines here that date back to the Nova Terra Interregnum when Saint Karyl led the faithful to first colonise this whole sector. Who knows what mysteries are buried under the temples: that is why the Tech-Priests want their sacred Forge-Fanes back in pristine condition."

"So why not let the cogboys handle it" said Ophelain, "This is world is a fiefdom of Forgeworld Crux Lapis: let the Skitarii slaughter the rebels and then ship in new colonists from the Hives of Tectum."

Halis let out a grunt of a laugh and called out, "Politics is why, our Chapter's history with the wider Imperium is hardly shining. Chapter Master Gorgall seeks to improve relations with goodwill missions like this."

"That is enough" interrupted Sergeant Toran, "This mission has been assigned to us and we shall see it done, do not shame us before our allies."

With that they turned to glance behind them where the servitors were trudging forward with Skittari surrounding them. At their head was as figure in red robes who floated serenely above the sewage seemingly unperturbed by the filth.

The body of the Magos was vaguely box like, with strange protrusions undulating under the robes, yet where legs should have been was only empty space with a slight breeze hinting at esoteric devices keep it afloat. The Magos clearly detected the attention and in a strangely feminine voice for one who was essential a floating box in a red robe called out, "Astartes 776-9-10-1, is there an error?"

Toran called back, "No Magos Castabore, merely checking that you are keeping up."

Castabore replied, "Unnecessary repetition of effort, my Skittari are fully capable of matching your pace."

The Sergeant stated, "Better to be sure, and my name is Toran."

Castabore replied, "That is an inaccurate means of identification, you are the first member of the tenth squad, Ninth company of Astartes Chapter 776, colloquially designated Storm Heralds"

"That will hardly be quick to say when we are in combat." retorted Toran

Castabore paused for moment and queried, "You propose that expediency supersedes accuracy?"

Castabore went silent for few seconds as she processed the concept then stated "Proposal accepted, re-designating Astartes 776-9-10-1 as Toran."

Toran his attention turned back to the sewer seeing the tunnel suddenly opening up into a broad concourse. It was a confluence of sewers that entered from multiple channels before running together into the larger route the party had emerged from.

The broad concourse was lit by a handful of flickering lumen orbs that revealed signs of former human habitation. Mounds of detritus and shanties declared the spoor of vagrants and mutants, the forgotten and uncared for in Imperial society. Once dozens of outcasts must have congregated here but now there was only stillness and the quiet trickle of sewage running through.

Toran swept the space with his bolt pistol and did not like the number of blocked angles and concealed positions he saw. He said, "Magos Castabore keep your Skitarii here and guard the demolitions, Pyrus squad sweep and clear the area."

With that the Space Marines broke formation and began to sweep around the piles of junk looking for traps. As they searched the space young Novak commented on the squad's vox link, "Emperor wept, are all cog boys so pedantic?".

"Not had much dealings with them before have you" retorted Furion, "This is them being brusk and snappy."

That earned a brief chuckle from the squad as they carried on searching and Toran took the opportunity to make his link to Furion private so he could say, "Something is definitely off with this mission: this is Scout work and why send a high ranking Magos down here.. there is more going here on than we can see."

Furion replied, "Perhaps we should look upon this as an opportunity."

Toran turned his head to look at him and Furion made a small gesture towards the Tech-Priests party saying, "The Adeptus Mechanicus is perhaps the most powerful of all imperial Institutions. Our Chaplains are driving us into conflict with the wider Imperium and soon Terra wil move to make an example of us. But if we can convince the Tech-priests to withhold their support any Imperial retaliation would be doomed to fail."

Toran saw the wisdom in his words, he was about to ask how to approach Magos Castabore when a flicker of movement caught his eye.

Ahead of him was a small formless mass cunningly hidden in shadow and piles of rubbish. It was the smallest discrepancy and to mortal eyes practically invisible in the gloom but to the gene-forged senses of a Space marine it was blatantly obvious to be the shape of a man hiding under a camo-cloak.

Toran roared, "Ambush!" as dozens of rebels rose up from cover and flung themselves at Pyrus Squad.


	2. Chapter 2

+++In Tergum Cultro: Chapter2+++

From all around black clad figures burst out of hiding places, throwing off camo cloaks to reveal long knives and autopistols in their hands. From under tarpaulins and the ruins of shacks they came, pouring out of every nook and cranny in their dozens. They fell upon Pyrus squad in a wave of stabbing frenzy letting off random shots to chip and score their ceramite armour.

The ambush was excellently concealed, well timed and positioned: it was also utterly futile.

Mortal men would have been frozen by disbelief and hesitation but the Space Marines reacted with superhuman swiftness and peerless co-ordination. As the rebels surged forwards Pyrus squad did not wait for their charge: they charged back.

The first rebel to reach them didn't even have time to land a single blow before a roaring chainsword cut across his path. It tore through his chest in a shower of gore leaving him to slump to the ground with an expression of bewilderment on his face.

Toran moved through the rebels like a grox charging through long grass, smashing aside bodies with his sheer bulk and brushing off attacks from his curved armour plates. He lashed out left and right with his Chainsword, carving apart attackers, every blow leaving ruined bodies behind him, bleeding out onto the cold stone floor.

As he turned to find more foes he saw Brother Jediah slashing out with his combat blade to open veins and arteries. To a normal man he was lighting quick blur but Toran was accustomed to the superior reflexes of Astartes and could tell his brother was taking his time. He chose each blow carefully and lingered to savour the moment of the kill.

On the other side of the concourse young Novak danced through knots of enemies, his thin rapier slicing and eviscerating with graceful élan and poise. Ophelian however was the complete contrast in styles, breaking necks and caving in chests with crude blows from his fists He always took the most direct and straight forward means to destroy each threat in turn then moved on.

Brother Daite fought with a short combat knife as if he were on the training ground, blocking deflecting and counter striking over and over like a machine. His style was unimaginative but effective and left a trail of dead foes behind him. Next to him the savage Persion fought a dozen attackers at once; his normally stoic demeanour transformed into a howling berserker rage as he practically tore rebels in two with great swipes of his blade.

Furion stood proud roaring his anger as he unleashed his Heavy Flamer, the twin streams spurting out to mix in mid-air. The hypergolic chemicals reacted together and could do nothing but ignite; creating a searing river of fire that engulfed half dozen attackers at once. The flames leapt on to cover more black clad bodies in an inferno of vengeance, turning them into flailing candles before they fell down.

The heart had been torn out of the ambush and only the rebels at the edge of the chamber evaded instant death. Their courage broke at the sight and they ran as fast as their legs could carry them towards the nearest exit. Halis Paur however had carefully positioned himself at a covering angle during the fight and as the rebels fled in terror he unleashed his bolter on full auto. His aim was perfect and every shell found a target, blowing rebels apart as the rounds detonated in their backs and not one escaped.

Pyrus squad swept the chamber and found no enemy left alive so they turned back to their Mechanicus allies. The Skitarii stood in a ring around their Magos, Hellguns held high but so swift and deadly had the Storm Heralds been that not a single one of them had seen a chance to open fire, not a single one. Their implanted facemasks made it impossible to betray expressions but their body language was a testament to an all too human sense of shock and amazement.

Toran drew himself up and shook blood from his blade then addressed his allies saying, "The rebels will surely be alerted to our presence now and Fourth Company will soon reach the Inner Wall. We must complete our objectives swiftly, form up and move out double time."

With practiced ease the squads fell in and raced down the tunnels in a broad front with Halis taking point. The time for stealth was over; speed would have to suffice now. As they raced Magos Castabore drew forward smoothly, a faint humming betraying her anti-grave motors pushing to the edge of their tolerances.

Calmly as if she were discussing matters of Cyber-Theology in a seminarian she said, "That was a most informative demonstration, your combat proficiency exceeded all my strategic simulations. I had not calculated such fleshy beings could be so efficient."

Toran realised that she was saying she was impressed and replied, "We are the Adeptus Astartes forged by the hand of the Emperor himself to create the ultimate union of flesh and steel, the best of both the weaknesses of neither."

Castabore's voice was incongruously soft and thoughtful for someone who resembled a floating box as she replied, "There are those in the Martian synod who claim the complete removal of flesh is not optimal. I had always discounted their work on electro-priests and servitor improvements as misguided but this new data is intriguing. I shall have to perform experiments to test this hypothesis."

Remembering Furion's words about forging alliances with the Tech-Priests Toran cautiously said, "Perhaps we could participate in your experiments, our Techmarines and Apothecaries have much to offer."

Castabore replied, "I shall file that for later review, unfortunately projections indicate that there may be shortage of experimental subjects available once you Astartes are done with this world."

Toran could not deny it and said, "It is not in our nature to let the enemies of the Emperor live."

Castabore said "That is exactly why I am here, sacred Mechanicus relics are at risk and you Astartes have a reputation for unwarranted destruction."

"Destruction, yes" stated Toran frankly "Unwarranted, never."

The conversation was suddenly cut off as Halis held up a clenched fist and the party froze. Toran instantly recognised that ahead the rough brickwork of the sewer was giving way to polished stone cladding and painted frescos. They must be nearing the foundations of the Inner Wall and whatever defences the rebels had established to protect against sapping and infiltration missions just like theirs.

Toran addressed the Magos saying, "Stay here, we shall scout ahead."

"No need" replied Castabore, "I have remote probes that will be far less conspicuous than you."

Castabore's robes bulged with unseen movement then a hand wrought entirely from metal emerged bearing a strange device. It superficially resembled a servo skull but it was much smaller than normal and was not fashioned from a human skull. Instead it appeared to be built around the head of a large avian creature with trailing mechandrites that snapped out to form wing shapes and spindly legs.

It hopped to and fro on the Magos' hand almost like a bird pecking for seeds then Castabore emitted a chirping noise and it leapt into the air. Toran stared at the strange artefact and was surprised to realise that unlike most Mechanicus creations it was aesthetically beautiful as well as functionally practical. For a long second it hung there, mechandrites thrashing like a hummingbird's wings and then the probe sped off down the tunnel disappearing into the darkness

Toran waited a full minute than asked, "What can you see?"

"It will be more efficient to just show you." said Castabore as she reached up with a metal hand to shine a series of rapidly blinking lights at Toran's faceplate. For a second his auto senses went blurry and static jumped before his eyes but then it snapped back into sharp focus and Castabore snatched her hand back as if stung by an insect.

Toran asked, "Problem Magos?"

Castabore actually sounded offended as she shook her hand and said, "I merely tried to establish a network to upload the probes' data, your armour not only rejected my authority but tried to send a feedback pulse up the link."

Toran was slightly amused and rather proud of his armour's belligerent spirit as he said, "Our battleplate is warded against unknown Machine Spirits, perhaps a data slate would be less confrontational."

Castabore spat a burst of binary that Toran was almost certain was the equivalent of a swear word but nevertheless her metal hand dipped into a pocket and pulled out a blunt square of metal upon which flickering images appeared. Toran took it from her hand and gazed at the images displayed then gritted his teeth at what he saw.

Whoever had made the defences had clearly known what they were doing. The sewer ended at least a hundred paces before the foundations began and between them was just open space with no cover whatsoever. The foundations were a towering edifice stretching up to the roof above; with rusty pipes protruding from far higher than a man could reach. Filthy effluent ran down the wall through channels carved by centuries of wear before pouring into shallow drains that fed into various sewers.

The wall was blank and featureless save for a heavily reinforced gate that was sealed against intrusion. Yet somebody must have known this was a weak point for gangs of rebels were dug in around the gate, hunkered down behind sandbags so only the tops of their helms and lasguns could be seen. But worst of all was that some absolute Fethwipe had installed a ferrocrete bunker before the gate with the muzzle of a heavy bolter glinting in the firing slit.

Toran took in the information and processed it seeking the best tactical scenarios; the results were less than ideal. The only viable option was a full frontal charge across open ground into the face of an embedded enemy with excellent crossfires.

Exactly the kind of fight Space Marines were designed for.

Toran turned to his squad and saw they were each ready to fight and die if necessary, yet he knew even Space Marines sometimes needed reminding of the nature of their duty. He was no Chaplain but drew himself up and said, "Ready yourselves brothers, today we march through fire and death but we shall not be laid low. The heretics think they have steeled themselves for war, they think they are ready to die, but there is one thing they cannot hope to have prepared for."

"For today they face the wrath of the Space Marines!"


	3. Chapter 3

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter3**

The darkness was still and quiet broken only by the noises of rebels griping about their lot, rolling dice and lighting up Iho-sticks, they had been deployed for hours and were bored of guarding a gate. They had heard warnings of Space Marines from their officers but not one of them took it seriously. Astartes were myths and legends, if they existed then they were anywhere but here.

Thus the rebels were totally unprepared when without warning eight giant figures charged from the darkness of the sewer. They sprinted forward at a pace even the finest athlete could not have matched.

Sergeant Toran was in the lead, surveying the sandbagged defences ahead and silently counting down in his head. They were one hundred paces away, distance enough for the rebels to pour on enough firepower to turn their power armour to slag. They had to cover the gap before the rebels had time to react, they had to get into close combat where greater numbers would be rendered meaningless.

At eighty paces the first rebel saw them, glancing over the sandbags drawn by the sudden noise. His eyes went wide in disbelief and he opened his mouth to yell a warning as other faces turned to check the disturbance. Toran threw himself forward, practically leaping with mighty pushes from his power armoured legs. He felt a wisp of desperation in his soul and drew on the tingle to lend fire to his limbs, channelling all his being into the quest for speed.

By the time he had reached sixty paces a hundred faces were peering over the barricades, their numbers still growing every second, yet they did not fire. Their guns were held loosely in their grips and their faces were caricatures of shock, disbelief and horror.

One man stood with his jaw working up and down but not able to say a word, his brain unable to process what he was seeing. Toran had experienced this reaction before; the Imperium even had a term for it.

Transhuman Dread.

A gene bulked warrior, carrying armour more appropriate for a tank, was enough to give any man pause but to see one in motion was another experience altogether. The human mind was conditioned from birth to certain expectations, one of the most fundamental being that bigger meant slower. The Astartes however did not conform to this prejudice and it froze the rebels in total denial and disbelief.

Their speed was ferocious, their mass not hindering them but in fact turning each of them into an oncoming juggernaut of ceramite. Yet worse of all, worse by far, was the knowledge that they were facing Astartes: the Angels of Death were coming for them all.

The rebels just stood there dumbfounded, guns held slack as their minds rejected what their eyes were telling them to be true. It could not last long but it might just buy a few precious seconds more to close the distance.

At thirty paces a rebel in officers' braid began yelling at the men and finally the first las-shot rang out. It sailed past Toran's helm dissipating harmlessly behind him but it was swiftly followed by more, dozens more in a overwhelming volley.

Toran's armour rang with impacts and he felt the Las burning across his battleplate as the Ceramite dissipated the energy across his chest. The squad began to weave and dodge, not in an effort to preserve themselves but in an attempt to draw fire from Furion and his vulnerable Heavy Flamer tanks.

The weight of fire was increasing every second and their armour was ringing with impacts. Toran briefly considered returning fire and trying to suppress the rebels but there were too many of them. The bolt weapons would have to wait, speed was everything now. The Space Marines put their heads down and raced on, trusting in the spirits of their armour to stand true.

At twenty paces the Heavy bolter finally rang out, its shells hurtling into their midst leaving behind fiery tracers from rocket propellant. Toran was jarred as a bolt careened into his shoulder pad, its detonation stopping him in his tracks. His mark VII plate held true but the force cost him vital speed and a perilous second as he rebuilt his momentum.

The shells were falling faster now as the rebels found their range and the squad suffered greatly but they knew it was better they took it than Furion. One shell detonating against his Flamer tanks could end everything in one blow.

At ten paces another volley of las fire rang out but not from the front, rather from behind, the Skitarii had finally formed a firing line and let loose with suppressive fire. The Hell guns had far greater penetrating power than regular las and punched through the sandbags to cut down a dozen rebels. It was not enough to break the foe but it disrupted their volley fire for a critical second: the squad had to make the most of it.

At five paces Toran jumped and his boots came up as he leapt the last distance. Powered by fibre motive bundles and with armour heavy enough so four men could not lift it Toran became a flying wrecking ball, effortlessly smashing aside the line of sandbags.

Three rebels were crushed into the ground in the first second of his attack, skulls and spines shattered by the sheer force of his impact. He lashed out with his Chainsword in a wide circle clearing a space around him and bodies were sent flying.

The rebels were flung back but so numerous were they that fresh bodies piled in like a tide, Toran met them head on with savage thrusts of his blade. Fury coursed through his limbs like liquid fire empowering his every strike, rage burned in his heart never letting him relent and his contempt for the heretical foe stoked his determination to see every last one of them dead.

"We are the Emperor's Storm!" he roared.  
The squad leapt to follow him into the fray as they bellowed the traditional battlecry of the Chapter; "We are His wrath!"

Brother Persion was the first to land bringing his bolter down heavily to crush a skull with the stock before whipping out his combat blade and setting about the tightly packed rebels. Daite leapt the barricade a second later barrelling into a knot of rebels and bowling them over with his bulk before crushing their skulls with his boots.

Halis cleared the sandbags and fell in behind a pair of rebels, his blade slashed once and then twice and two corpses fell to the ground missing their heads. Meanwhile Jediah tackled a rebel and held him firmly down to the ground with one hand as he ever so slowly pushed his knife between the mortal's ribs. He looked deeply into the man's eyes as he glided the blade in inch by inch, savouring the moment as life slipped away.

Ophelian saw a knot of rebels charging at the distracted Marines' back, he calculated the most efficient way to dispose of them and then lobbed a Frag Grenade into their midst. Shrapnel tore through thin fabrics and webbing leaving a dozen men sprawled groaning on the ground, Ophelain marched over to them and broke their necks one by one.

The rebels still held the advantage of number but now Pyrus squads was in close they could not bring their guns to bear and none of them could match a Space Marines in combat.

Novak was confronted by a rebel with officers' braiding, he bore a broad cutlass that shimmered with the energy of a power field and brought it down heavily in an overhead strike. Novak deflected the sparking blade with an elegant parry then his next slice tore off the officers' arm, he finished the man off with a quick thrust through the heart. Three strokes to kill one man: he was showing off again.

Meanwhile Magos Castabore redirected her Skitarii to fire further along the emplacements, trying not to hit the Space Marines. They were met with sprays of fire from the bunker, the Heavy Bolter chugging as it lashed out trails of shells. Three skitarii were caught full on by the torrent, their armour crumpled and their bodies exploded as the mass reactive rounds detonated.

But then Furion slammed his backpack against the ferrocrete of the bunker, keeping the tanks of the Heavy Flamer well away from the line of shells roaring by. He stood braced as the tongue of fire lashed out inches away from his helm then the fire ceased and there were the frantic sounds of men trying to reload. Furion immediately stepped out and swung the Heavy Flamer around until the nozzles were pointing directly into the firing slit, then he squeezed the trigger.

A tornado of fire swept through the bunker, burning everything inside to ash and pulling the air from rebel lungs. The Heavy Bolter melted in the inferno then its ammunition cooked off in a detonation that rang across the battle. The roof of the bunker blew off in a mushroom cloud of red flames, scattering rocks to fall heavily upon friend and foe alike.

The rebels quivered at the terrible noise and fiery destruction and for a moment it seemed like their courage would break. But then a mighty squeal filled the air as the great gate ground up, revealing a long tunnel winding away into the depths of the foundations.

From the tunnel came three brutish giants covered in thick leather overall sand plasteel plates, their flesh was interwoven with bulky augmetics and chem injectors. Their faces were sculpted by gigantism and they had thick jaws that drooled as they breathed. Their hands had been removed and surgically replaced with snapping claws and siege drills.

Toran saw them stepping out into the light and snarled "Ogryn Charonites!"

In a heartbeat his enhanced mind processed the situation and found the odds inexorably shifting away from the squad. This could turn the whole battle against them.

"Magos!" roared Toran, "Redirect your fire, bring down the Ogryns!"

But there was no response, even though the calamity of battle the Sergeant could tell the supporting fire from the Skitarii was absent. He tilted around to see if some new disaster had befallen the Mechanicus troops but all he could see was Magos Castabore and her Skitarii turning their backs on the fight and marching back into the darkness of the tunnels.

Leaving Pyrus squad surrounded by foes.


	4. Chapter 4

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter4**

The Ogryns came barrelling out of the darkness of the tunnel, shouting in brute rage and ignorant to everything save the urge to smash down anything before them. They were crude parodies of the noble Astartes form, with none of the skill or precision but what they lacked in grace they more than made up for in size and power. They charged like oncoming freight trains with plasteel plates and bucket helms making a terrible clatter as they lumbered into battle.

Without the supporting fire of the Skittari there was no of stopping them and the mystery of their abandonment would have to wait for another time. For now Pyrus squad could only try to survive the next few minutes.

The Ogryns charged into combat swinging their brutal weapons and Ophelian found himself standing directly in the path of one as it rumbled towards him. He reacted instinctively reaching out to grab a rebel by the front of his black robes and threw him bodily into the spinning siege drills.

The high pitched shrieks were mercifully short lived as the blades tore through the heretic and sprayed blood and bone everywhere. The red mist obscured the Ogryn's vision for a moment and while it rubbed its eyes with a hairy elbow Ophelian dived out of its path.

Halis let rip with his bolter at an Ogryn's head but the bolts deflected off its thick bucket helmet doing little more than stunning the beast. It roared in primitive anger and tried to grab the marine with a clanking claw like pincer but Halis dropped and dived between its legs to roll free behind it.

Meanwhile Furion was letting loose with great blasts from his Heavy Flamer, creating wide swathes of fire. The crowds of rebels were forced back, kept from overwhelming the squad while they fought the Ogryn's. The occasional las blast shot through but they were poorly aimed and achieved nothing.

Persion was blasting away at one of the beast's knees, trying to make fall over where it would be vulnerable, but his bolts ricocheted off a rising plasteel plate drilled into its shin bones. It came about and lashed out with a pair of gigantic shears where its hand should be and caught the Marine by the pauldron.

Persion struggled and kicked out but could not break free, the Ogryn increased the pressure inexorably as the shoulder pad crumpled in its grip and the ceramite cracked. With a terrible shriek the pauldron tore free and Persion fell back missing the entire shoulder pad. The Ogryn was left grasping the shorn plate stupidly looking about for the rest of its prize.

Meanwhile Jediah ran straight another Ogryn from the side and stabbed his combat blade into its thigh. Blood ran freely but the great beast's thick muscles were like tree trunks and it did not fall. Its rudimentary brain finally registered pain and it looked down at him, then it swung a siege drill right into his chest.

Jediah's armour was ripped and gouged by the spinning blades sending razor sharp shrapnel flying everywhere. Jediah flung himself backwards to escape the tearing frenzy and fell heavily to the ground. His armour had saved his life but the chestplate was a shredded mess of jagged splinters and ruptured power conduits.

The Ogryn stepped forwards heavily and loomed over the fallen marine aiming to finish him off but Toran leapt to his defence. As it reached out he slapped down with his chainsword catching the Ogryn on the arm, the spinning teeth ripped aside the leather and cut into the flesh below.

A red swathe of torn skin and muscle was gashed into the arm but so thick was the bone beneath that the limb remained intact. The Ogryn screamed as its primitive mind registered fresh pain, reflexively swinging around in a backhanded slap that caught the Sergeant across the chest. Toran was lifted off his feet by the force of the impact and thrown away to hit a pile of sandbags and ruptured them with his weight, spraying fine grit into the crowds of rebels beyond the flames.

The battle was turning against the Space Marines, they simply could not bring enough damage to bear against the Ogryns before they would be shredded. Toran's mind frantically reviewed passages from the Codex but could find no doctrine that could change this outcome.

Then in a flash of realisation he saw that the only way to win the game was to change the rules. Toran turned to his brothers and yelled, "Furion: Decimation protocol! Squad engage void seals!" Instantly the whole squad sealed their respirators and set pressure seals to maximum, turning their armour into vacuum proof spacesuits.

Furion ripped the tanks from his Heavy Flamer and drew back his arm, then he threw them high above the battle. It was a move of sheer desperation, condemned in every particular by the Codex but right now there were no other options, it was do or die. At the apex of the arc Toran raised his pistol and fired a burst at the tanks, the bolt rounds soaring through the air to hit the canisters straight on.

The tanks blew apart spraying chemicals all over the struggling masses below, the hypergolic mix igniting in mid-air and cascading down as a rain of fire. Men screamed in horror as they were covered head to toe in sheets of flames, they ran flailing and falling to the burning ground and some put their guns to their own heads to end the agony. It was like an artist's depiction of hell with men running and flailing to escape a sea of fire but all to no avail.

The Astartes too were doused in fire but they had sealed their armour and the flames had no way to reach the Marines inside. Proof against the scorching heat of stars and the absolute cold of space the power armour stood firm leaving each man a burning statue amidst a scene of hell.

The Ogryns fared far worse, swathed in fire that burned their leathers and melted the plasteel of their armour to their skin. They roared in agony and beat at their own flesh trying to put the flames out but now their implants worked against them. Long shears and siege drills were no use against fire and they tore and rent their own flesh as they sought to beat the fire into submission.

One of them tripped over a burning corpse and fell headlong to the ground, sprawling helplessly in the scalding dust as it thrashed about. Novak leapt from the ground and landed with his boots spread across its shoulders, he raised his rapier with a flourish then drove the tip downwards between the brute's vertebrae and severed its spine.

Another Ogryn was blundering about, flailing its fists at anything that moved. It caught a blazing rebel with one siege drill and in a heartbeat decapitated him with the spinning heads. Daite ran straight at the beast and ducked underneath a wildly swing fist, he punched it in the gut then ran onwards. A few seconds later the Krak grenade he had left in its belt exploded tearing the apart the Ogryn's belly and leaving it to fall dead to the ground.

The last Ogryn was running in little circles trying to see a way out but Toran charged at it from behind and swept low. His chainsword ripping at the back of its legs to tear out a hamstring as thick a steel cable. The brute fell to the ground and he swung his blade high before bringing it down hard on the apex of the neck and beheaded the last Ogryn in one blow.

Finally silence fell save for the crackling of smouldering fabrics and the fatty sizzle of roasting bodies. Pyrus squad came together, Jediah limping from his wounds as they surveyed their pyrrhic victory. Nobody felt like cheering as they took in the carnage all about.

Persion looked sidelong at Toran and said, "Sergeant, I do not recall any passage from the Holy Codex that supports such a manoeuvre."

Toran breathed in a gasp of smoky air through his respirator and said, "Sometimes one must violate the letter of the Codex to be true to its spirit."

Persion's scepticism was obvious in his voice as he said, "That is an unorthodox way of thinking."

"The Codex's doctrines are perfect but the situation is not," replied Toran, "It is up to us to find ways to make the doctrines fit."

"As much as I enjoy a philosophical debate I have to ask why did the Skitarii abandoned us?" asked Novak

Toran said, "That I do not know but we still have a mission to complete, Persion check on the Servitors and tell me if Castabore at least left us the demolitions."

Persion jogged over to the sewer entrance and called, "They are still here, all the demolitions are untouched."

"Good" said Toran, "Get them over here and see to the placement of the seismic charges. We have less than ten minutes until Fourth Company starts their assault and I want to be far from here when that wall comes down."

Toran stood guard with Halis as Furion drew fresh flamer tanks from the Servitor train and the rest of the squad placed demolitions along the length of the tunnel beyond the gate. Pyrus squad were the foremost demolition experts in the Chapter and the deed did not take long, after only a few minutes the Marines ran out and together they headed towards the sewer exit.

Daite was the first to ask, "Sergeant, where are we going?"

Toran was stunned by the thought, the mission objectives were complete and he had no standing orders mandating any action. For the first time since his ascension to being a Space Marine he was free to choose his own course. It was a strange sensation, dizzying and even a little heady, he was struck by a vision of a life without the prescription of orders, commands and endless tradition: a life of Freedom.

Toran stamped down on the heretical thought with a surge of self-loathing, to question one's place in the Emperor's design was the beginning of heresy. It was the first step on the road to Chaos, the same path the hated Traitor Legions had walked and Toran would never allow the yearning for freedom to contaminate the purity of his mind.

He may have no orders but he still had his duty and only in death does duty end. Toran snarled, "There are mysteries here that need solving, form up we are going to wring some answers out of Magos Castabore."


	5. Chapter 5

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter5**

Through the dank sewers Pyrus squad ran, racing barely ahead of a crescendo of noise and tremours as their demolitions brought down the Inner Wall. Behind them was destruction but before them lay another hunt, chasing the signs of the Skitarii's retreat through the sewers. They moved swiftly and quietly seeking out the scuffs and disturbed rubbish left as the Mechanicus troops passed through. The spoor showed they had moved in great haste and there was no telling how far ahead they had gone.

Soon Pyrus squad had backtracked all the way back to the shadowy concourse where they had fought off the first ambush. The signs of their fight were still fresh, with blood spatters still drying on the rough figurines carved into the walls. The shacks and debris were disturbed by the passage of many feet showing the Skitarii had travelled through here but which exit they had taken was not so obvious.

Toran said "Spread out and check each tunnel, see if there is any trail to follow."

The squad broke up and fanned out, looking carefully in the dim light of flickering Lumen orbs for any indication where their prey had gone.

Suddenly Daite stood up straight holding out an Auspex scanner and called out, "Unknown presences detected, closing fast."

"The Skitarii?" called Toran

"Possibly but the motion signature is too large" replied Daite, "Either they have prisoners or they linked up with reinforcements en route."

"Assume ambush positions" said Toran instantly, "Fire only on my command."

With practiced ease Pyrus squad spread out in a wide perimeter, creating a deadly kill zone in the centre of the concourse. They settled into concealed positions and reduced their armour's energy output to minimum, becoming indistinguishable from the worn and tarnished figurines carved into the walls. They waited patiently not giving away so much as a twitch to betray their presence as the long seconds crept by.

Then from one of the adjacent tunnels two dozen figures came creeping out, each wearing the bulky backpack of a Hellgun. They were swift and disciplined forces, skilfully covering the angles and covering each other with precision yet to Toran's surprise they were not Skitarii at all.

The newcomers wore matt black fatigues and dulled carapace armour, their heads covered in all enclosing helms with night vision googles built in. Toran was shocked by their arrival and wondered what a platoon of Stormtroopers were doing in the sewers.

Their tactics were good, their movements crisp and professional but they were no match for Astartes. When they had reached the centre of the kill box the Astartes suddenly came to life, powering up their armour and stepping forwards with Bolters raised.

Most gangers would have opened fire immediately in panic but the Stormtroopers were experienced and highly disciplined soldiers. They saw the perfection of the ambush around them but also that the Astartes had not yet opened fire, they gripped their hellguns tight but did not start shooting.

Toran stepped forwards and barked, "In the Emperor's name identify yourselves!"

From the back of the group came a stern and prim voice saying, "What gives you the right to make such a demand in the Emperor's name?"

The speaker stepped to the fore and was exposed to the pale light of the lumens, revealing upon her bodice and pauldrons the silver 'I' of the Inquisition. The woman wore form fitting black power armour and had a face with thin pursed lips that seemed to be permanently set in a scowl. Her silver hair was pinned in a tight bun and her skin had the subtle tells of juvenant work that meant she could be anywhere from fifty to two hundred years old.

She was armed with an energised blade, a las pistol and across her belt were scrolls, purity seals and a variety of grenades including that rarest of weapons: a Psyk-out grenade. She was a sight to set the heart of heretics cowering in fear and contrition, a vision of the Emperor's judgement.

Worse of all it was sight Toran was all too familiar with.

Toran drew in a slow breath and growled, "Inquisitor Canesh, this is an unexpected encounter."

"Sergeant Toran, I see you are still dragging Pyrus squad through the filth" said Canesh seemingly as displeased to see them as they were her,

Indeed Pyrus squad had been involved in a mission with the Inquisitor some ten years earlier and they all had bitter memories of the entire affair. The mission had been completed but he cost had been high, Pryus squad had come away shamed and dishonoured by the deeds and had tried to put the whole incident behind them.

Toran himself had been unable to discern the woman's character, at times she seemed petty and shallow at others ruthless, detached and judgemental. To this day he still wasn't sure who the real Canesh was, all he was certain of was that she had a unwavering determination and would not hesitate to pay any price to achieve her goals.

"What are you doing down here?" asked Toran.

She replied primly, "I might ask you the same thing."

"We asked you first" commented Halis Paur.

Canesh gave them a superior glower that spoke volumes of what she thought of that comment and the Marines in general. Toran decided not to play her petty games and declared, "This world has rebelled against the rightful and just rule of the Emperor, we are here to bring his wrath down upon the heretics."

Canesh nodded and replied, "I too do the Emperor's work, rebellions such as this do not simply happen. There are always masterminds and sponsors hiding the shadows, the Inquisition will not let such Traitors evade His sight."

Toran put up his bolt pistol and the rest of the gathered warriors lowered their aim, not quite stowing their weapons but at least not pointing them at each other anymore. Toran said, "I believe we may have found just such a heretic: in the midst of battle we were abandoned and betrayed by a Mechanicus Magos named Castabore."

"Castabore?" asked Canesh sharply, "This explains much: Castabore is a known Heretek and deviant, long have I sought proof of his perfidy. This timing is too convenient: I suspect he may well have started this whole rebellion to cover his thefts."

"Thefts?" asked Toran intrigued, "What exactly is here that would make a Magos turn against the Emperor?"

Canesh replied, "Caminus is an old world, with shrines that date back to the Nova Terra Interregnum. There are secrets deeply buried here, technology caches from antiquity."

Halis sounded suspicious as he said, "And exactly what is in this cache that is so valuable?"

Canesh merely glared at him, clearly not wanting to reveal all her secrets but Toran stated, "Inquisitor if you wish us to work together then we need operational data. Without knowing Castabore's goal we cannot predict the Magos' actions."

Canesh's face was a mask of stone but eventually she admitted, "The Inquisition has long suspected that there may be an archive of STC designs on Caminus."

That shut Halis up, the sheer magnitude of her words changing everything and silence fell as the import of this sank in. The solemnity of the moment was ruined however as Novak asked, "What is an STC?"

Halis sighed in exasperation and answered him saying, "If you paid attention to anything other than your bladework you would have known that a Standard Template Construct is the original technology supplied to colonists during the Dark Age of Technology. They contained designs for everything you can imagine, from farming crawlers to starship weapons and warp-energy taps."

"So they are valuable then?" asked Novak

Canesh replied impatiently, "It is a prize beyond the dreams of avarice, even a single page of one's output would be worth killing for. The Inquisition cannot allow such a treasure to fall into the hands of a Traitor, imagine the damage that could be wrought with the power of an STC."

Halis was eyeing her suspiciously and said, "No its more than that… you didn't just happen to be down here the moment a Heretek chose to strike. You want the Cache yourself don't you?"

The look Canesh gave Halis could have soured milk for clearly she had no intention of revealing that. Through gritted teeth she admitted, "The Inquisition is dedicated to the survival of the Emperor's rule yet Mechanicus has had these designs for thousands of years and just buried them. The Inquisition would see the designs put to good use not hoard it like misers. There are those in the Inquisition who hold that it is the Mechanicus who is holding humanity back, that it is the Tech-Priests who are preventing innovation and advancement. Their blind devotion to dogma has robbed mankind of the tools necessary for survival."

"That is an unusual thing for an Inquisitor to say" declared Toran suspiciously.

Canesh begrudgingly admitted, "We are sworn to defend the Imperium but our eyes are not shut, we can see it is a stagnant and rotten thing. To survive we must tear down this rusty and ancient cage that we have built for ourselves and replace it with a tower that can once more touch the stars. Your own Chapter for all its flaws sees this to be true, your quest to revitalise the Imperium might be flawed but ultimately even you must see that we need change."

Toran was deeply disturbed by these words, true he disagreed with his Chapters' habit of proselytising but he had seen enough to know the Imperium was corrupt to its very core. The idea of changing things for the better was potent indeed but he was nought save a humble Space Marine, the politics of rulership were well beyond him. All he could do was focus on the step before him and fight the enemy he confronted that day.

Toran finally said, "If this data is truly what you claim it to be then we cannot allow it to fall into the hands of one who has betrayed the Emperor. We shall join your quest as allies and bring the wrath of Terra down upon the Heretek."

Canesh did not seem pleased by this pronouncement but begrudgingly said, "If you insist on accompanying me then it seems I have little choice. There is an ancient shrine not far from here, I suspect that will be Castabore's destination, if we act fast we may still be in time to stop a disaster."

"Very well" replied Toran, "Lead on Inquisitor, together we will bring this traitor to justice."


	6. Chapter 6

In Tergum Cultro: Chapter6

From the outside the Mechanicus shrine resembled a large gate way built into solid rock, soaring high and engraved with the great bifurcated skull symbol of Mars. It was easily large enough for a pair of Dreadnoughts to pass through unimpeded yet to approach it would be deadly. The archway was festooned with defensive neutron lasers, plasma cavaliers and Gun Servitors.

Sadly this elaborate defence was now useless, the lasers jerked randomly in their firing slits seeking targets that they could not find. The Cavaliers sparked uselessly as they powered up and down repetitively while the Servitors wandered aimlessly about finding nothing. The gate itself was sitting wide open, split down the middle of the great icon to form two separate images, one of flesh the other of steel.

"What happened here?" asked Toran surveying the crippled armaments.

"Some form of scrapcode infestation" replied Canesh, "It must have scrambled the defences and left them helpless."

"Then Castabore is already here" stated Toran, "Quickly we may still catch her!"

Pyrus squad bounded forwards, weapons raised as they swept for enemies but Canesh paused and said to her Stormtroopers, "Stay here and form a perimeter, we will scout ahead." The Stormtroopers saluted and turned their Hellguns outwards as the Inquisitor followed the Space Marines inside.

The Imperials progressed swiftly under the shadow of the defences, alert for the slightest sign that they were being targeted but nothing happened and they passed under the archway into the shrine itself. Beyond the gate the fane was carved deep into the bed rock, stretching away in a long nave.

The space was bare save for devotional icons to the glory of the Omnissiah and large vox casters that blared binary hymns on a continuous loop. More gun servitors wandered aimlessly around but their weapons were pointed at the ground and their targeting scanners were blind to the world.

At the far end of the nave were the smoking remains of a rood screen before a smashed altar. Behind that were a pair of smaller doors which were ajar and hanging off their frames.

Toran took in the shattered remains of the shrine and snarled, "Warp Hells, the Heretek has been and gone, she must already have the data!"

Inquisitor Canesh stepped forwards and said, "Take your Space Marines and secure the inner sanctum, we must know what has been stolen. I will sweep this area and try to discern if there is any trail to follow."

Toran bristled at her assumption of authority and said, "Inquisitor we are not under your command here, you do not give us orders."

Canesh raised a prim eyebrow and said, "Do you want to waste time arguing about jurisdiction or do you want to catch a Traitor?"

Toran wanted to argue further but knew her words made sense so he waved the squad forwards and reluctantly said, "Very well, I will take your suggestions under advisement, for now."

Leaving Canesh behind Pyrus squad advanced and approached the end of the nave. The interior doors had been blown wide open leaving a gaping hole into the sanctum. Beyond the doors they found an octagonal chamber some fifty paces wide, clad in marble tiles cut to microscopically exact measurements.

The roof was beautiful dome with reinforced flying buttresses leading into a central Keystone the length of a Space marine. Short plinths were placed with geometric precision around the space each bearing strange ornaments and shimmering with the light of stasis fields.

On the far wall was a curious emblem, brazenly out of place for it was a large white circle banded with an iron chain. Emblazoned on the circle was large black avian creature with wings wide spread and claws gripping the chain.

Novak pointed at the emblem and said, "That is the seal of the Raven Guard, what is it doing here?". He stepped between the plinths for a closer look but pulled up short as Furion yelled, "Stop!"

Novak froze still with one foot still in mid air and held his breath as Furion slowly crept closer. He set down his Heavy Flamer and inched forwards to gingerly probe at a loose flagstone right under where Novak was about to put his boot.

He lifted it a hairsbreadth and peered underneath declaring, "Seismic mine, one more step and you would have brought this whole place down on our heads."

Novak pulled his boot back and took a large step away as he asked, "Can you disarm it?"

Furion snorted in derision and said "Give me time and I can disarm anything," He pulled a pack of tools from his belt and removed a series of micro thin wires along with a device that sprouted curling Mechandrites. He slid a tiny probe under the flagstone and began disarming the mine with all the care of a master watchmaker.

Meanwhile Pyrus squad spread out and began examining the rest of the shrine, checking for more traps and hidden secrets. Toran walked around the perimeter examining the various plinths laid out before him, many bore strange devices whose purpose he could not begin to guess at and he suspected may have been heretically Xeno in origin.

Others supported single sheets of vellum parchment covered with text from dead and forgotten languages, one plinth merely shone a rotating hololithic image of some esoteric fomula in mid air. Another bore a strange mask of a young boy wrought from gold, crowned with a strange cobra like headdress.

Yet the most important plinth of all was not demarked by its content but rather by it's absence. It was short and otherwise indistinguishable save for a short knife that had been rammed into the mechanism to disrupt its stasis field.

Toran stared at the inert block and felt the dreadful implications arising from the bare slab that must once have held the precious STC data. He swore to make the Traitor pay for her perfidy and for betraying the bonds of honour between warriors.

He paced away snarling and inspected the progress of the rest of the squad. He approached Persion and said, "Anything else missing?"

"No" reported Persion, "She went straight for the most valuable thing in here, she knew exactly what she was looking for."

Toran felt frustration and bile building within him, but then he saw another of his brothers acting oddly. It was Daite and he was standing by the entrance way staring at the doors silently and unmoving.

Toran approached with a hint of caution in his step for Daite was a strange one even by Astartes standards. The Marine had been blessed and cursed in equal measure by a defective Catalapsean node that occasionally misfired. The result of this was that Daite sometimes could be struck by astounding leaps of intuition and deductive logic that bordered on prophecy. Yet useful as they had proven Toran had never fully trusted these insights.

Toran gently walked up to Daite and was relieved to see his brother was not in the grips of some vision. Instead he was carefully examining the door jamb, looking over every inch from top to bottom. Toran came to stand beside Daite and said, "Found something brother?"

Daite replied, "This door is all wrong."

"It has been blown open" replied Toran, "Of course there is something wrong."

"No not that" Daite, "These doors are wrecked, smashed asunder."

"Why is that important?" Toran asked curiously.

Daite answered "The doors have been demolished with Melta bombs but this is a Mechanicus shrine, why would the Magos risk damaging the relics inside?"

Toran realised what Daite was driving at and he reasoned out loud, "Yes, the Magos wouldn't have needed to risk damaging the relics because she should have had the authority to just open the seals herself. This was sloppy and reckless work, not at all like a Tech-Priest."

Daite nodded as his Sergeant caught up and said, "Something is very wrong here."

Toran called out, "Inquisitor I need your opinion, come look at this..." he was met by silence. A slight frown creased his brow and he straightened up and turned calling out "Inquisitor?" but Canesh was not where she had been.

While everybody was distracted she had silently withdrawn beyond the outer doors of the shrine and was now standing outside with her Stormtroopers. Every weapon was raised to point straight inside: right at Pyrus squad.

Shock and outrage stole over Toran and without conscious thought he began to run forwards but time seemed to dilate and his feet appeared to move with glacial slowness. Barely had he managed to put one foot before another when Canesh held up a long silver cylinder in one hand. Then she smiled with smug superiority and contempt as her thumb hit the trigger rune.

The ground lurched beneath the Space Marines' feet as her remote detonator set off the seismic mine in an ultrasonic shriek of disruptive noise.

Toran was thrown to the side as the arcane device projected overpowering sonic waves through the bedrock, the vibrations travelling instantly through the stonework to hurl everybody off their feet. The disruption was stomach churning for anyone in range but utterly catastrophic for the shrine itself.

Thick rock shook like a reed in the wind and massive cracks ran through the pillars and buttress as their integrity was shattered. Stone splinters flew out like bullets and a terrible groaning filled the chamber as hundreds of tons of stone shifted on skittering foundations.

With a final burst of energy the seismic mine created a crescendo of ultrasonic waves that turned the air itself blurry and indistinct then it died away. For a single moment silence reigned and all was still, then with an earth shattering rumble the entire ceiling caved in on their heads.

Toran looked up in horror as the massive Keystone broke free and dropped right on Furion's position. The rest of the roof followed it down creating an avalanche of broken masonry and rough rocks from above.

Toran threw up his arms over his head but could not hold back the deluge. A huge boulder smashed into his helm and knocked him into unconsciousness as Pyrus squad were buried alive.


	7. Chapter 7

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter7**

Toran awoke to absolute darkness; he could not see anything but he was alive and he was awake. His autosenses could not register anything in the pitch black but he could feel his armour was covered by loose debris. He slowly brushed it off with one hand then tried to stand up but was brought up short when his helm impacted a stone barrier at just over waist height.

Frustrated by his inability to see Toran ripped off his helm revealing the augmetic eye embedded in his skull, the slightest mental impulse was enough to cause it to glow and illuminate the darkness. Toran could barely see the hand before his face but it was enough to take in the situation, he appeared to be in a small cavity between two horizontal slabs of rock. The way the ceiling caved in must have piled the stonework together leaving a tiny space between the floor and the roof.

Toran flopped onto his belly and crawled forwards, ruining his proud colours as he dragged his armour over sharp stones but right now that was the least of his concerns. He pulled himself forwards hand over hand as he tried to find any other survivors but was stopped short as he collided with a pair of pillars in the middle of the space.

Toran was puzzled for he did not recall any pillars in the sanctum and did not understand where they had come from. He looked up and gasped at what he saw looming over him.

Standing in the middle of the space was Furion; he was bent over with his backpack pressed right against the central keystone of the roof. The flying buttresses seemed to have snagged just above the keystone and were supporting the weight of the entire roof on their arches. No Toran realised in startled wonder, the buttresses were not supporting the roof: it was Furion.

He was _holding_ it aloft.

Furion's arms were widely spread to brace the immense weight and his boots were cracking the bedrock of the floor as they drove into the surface. His Mark III plate was buzzing angrily at the strain and the fibre bundle muscles of the suit was bulging to absolute breaking point. Toran realised that Furion had done the impossible, he had caught the keystone as it fell upon him and now he was the only thing keeping tons upon tons of rock from crashing down and grinding everybody to paste.

Toran looked up in amazement and said "Brother… how are you doing that?"

Furion's only response was to growl, "Gunnnngh…. unnngh…"

Toran realised Furion was pushed to the absolute limit by the weight pressing down on him, his concentration must have been total and all consuming. His brother had already surpassed everything Toran thought he knew about an Astartes' limits but he could not last long. The lifetime of any survivors was now measured by Furion's endurance, the second he wavered everybody died.

Toran decided not to distract Furion again and pulled himself around seeing another body half buried in the rubble. He pushed aside the discarded Heavy Flamer and dragged himself over to find Novak lying on his back buried up to the chest in what was now the wall.

Toran crawled over and slapped his helm hard until his head moved, Novak looked up and said with an unhealthy gurgle, "Sergeant…"

Toran asked "Are you hale?"

Novak replied, "I regret to report…"

"Brother?" said Toran in concern.

Novak breathed in and said, "I regret to report… my blade is broken" as he held up his shattered rapier.

Toran could not help but let out a short bark of laughter at the ridiculous answer, the sheer scope of their situation overcoming his stoicism for a second. He was interrupted by a snarl over the vox as another voice cut in.

"I am alive too, if anyone cares" came the voice of Halis.

"Where are you" said Toran

"No idea" said Halis, "I appear to be buried, my armour is intact but I cannot move an inch."

"Stay still" said Toran, "We will dig our way out of here."

"We?" said Halis, "Who else is left?"

"Novak is pinned" said Toran "And Furion is here too but he is busy holding back the avalanche."

"He doing WHAT?!" exclaimed Halis in disbelief.

"Just believe me" said Toran, "Is there anyone else?"

Another voice cut in saying "Sergeant this is Persion: I alive, I am in some form of cavity in the wall. Ophelian is with me, he is alive but unconscious, I don't know if he is in a Sus-an-membrane coma or just stunned."

Then another voice on the vox, "Daite reporting, I am pinned under a plinth. I am buried but can move slightly, I will try to dig my way to you."

Toran sighed in relief but realised one squad member was unaccounted for, he barked "Jediah, Jediah report damn you!"

There was a cough then a voice said, "Here Sergeant."

"Are you injured brother?" asked Toran.

Jediah replied, "There is nothing wrong with me that will not be better once I get my hands on that bitch Canesh. I am going to peel her skin off and dice her limbs into little chunks slice by slice, then I am going to make her watch me feed them to the vermin."

"He must be concussed" said Halis, "I don't think I've ever heard him say so many words. Ever."

Toran turned about and dragged himself over to where he thought the entranceway had been. He blessed the Emperor for ensuring it was impossible to disorientate a Space Marine otherwise he might well have been facing the wrong way. He had no tools but used his gauntlets to start digging his way up, pulling aside loose detritus and debris to create a hole.

As he dug he heard Novak saying behind him, "We were chasing Castabore and then Canesh tries to kill us, do you think they are working together?"

Persion answered on the Vox, "If they knew the STC was here then they could have concocted this whole scheme, set up this trap to eliminate us and take the data for themselves."

Halis interrupted to say, "No you are getting it all backwards, the doors were blown before long we arrived, Castabore was never here. Canesh wants the STC all for herself but she knew the Tech-Priests would come running the second the shrine was violated. This trap was meant to catch any Tech-Priests on her trail while she made her escape."

Persion continued the narrative, "So Canesh gets her hands on the data and then she has the sheer bad luck to run into us on the way out. She could not leave any witnesses behind but couldn't hope to beat us in a straight fight either. So she decides to double back and steer us into her own trap."

"Great" said Halis, "Knifed in the back not once but twice by two different heretics."

While the others had been talking Toran had been furiously digging but suddenly there was an epic groan and the whole structure shifted. Tons of loose rock were disturbed by his excavations and slid over each other. Dust and debris poured into the cavity filling it with a choking miasma and the groan of rock shifting echoed through the tiny space.

Furion screamed "Garrrgh!" as his knees buckled ,dropping the keystone downwards. He caught himself after a couple of inches and braced the roof again now lower than ever. He was holding the avalanche back but his position now was much worse. That he had persevered this long was a miracle but his endurance was gone, now only his sheer bloody minded refusal to quit stood between everybody and a crushing death.

"Sergeant" said Persion on the vox, "We could really use some of that unorthodox thinking right about now."

Toran looked about but saw nothing that would help their situation, nothing except the Heavy Flamer at Furion's feet. He swallowed then dragged himself forwards saying, "Squad I have an idea."

Novak craned his neck around to see where the Sergeant was going and said, "You cannot be serious."

"What's he doing?" asked Halis on the Vox.

"He is going to try to make a bomb out of the flamer's tanks and blow a hole back into the nave" said Novak watching the sergeant drag the tanks over to the hole he had dug.

"No, no, no, no, no… that is a really, really bad idea" interrupted Halis, "If there is anything but loose debris between the sanctum and the nave the force of the blast will directed inwards and blow us all the way to the Golden Throne."

"We don't have any other choice" said Toran wedging the tanks into the hole he had dug.

"Sergeant…" said Halis but he was cut off as Furion groaned again and slipped down another inch. Dust and rock chips cascaded into the space and a terrible creaking noise came from all around making everybody freeze.

"Everybody brace!" yelled Toran as he levered the biggest piece of rock he could find up against the tanks, creating a primitive barrier. He placed his backpack hard against the rock then took a Krak grenade from his belt and leaned forward to bring the rock out a few degrees.

He threw the grenade over his shoulder and flung himself backwards pressing hard against the rock to create a hard seal around the tanks. He dug his heels into the ground carving short grooves into the stonework and bellowed, "Fire in the Hole!"

Then the Krak grenade exploded and the world turned white.


	8. Chapter 8

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter8**

The nave of the shrine was finally silent, the vox casters broken off the walls and the toppled servitors twitching as their rudimentary logic engines struggled to grasp the concept of standing up. The stillness was absolute and the weak lumen orbs only filled the space with a velvety twilight. At one end were piles of stones, spilling out of the entrance to the sanctum in jagged heaps.

The serenity of the nave was broken by a sudden eruption of flame and thunder as the piles of rocks exploded upwards. Boulder were hurled with startling force to smash into the walls cracking their facades. One boulder arced upward then inevitably downwards to impact upon a twitching servitor, splattering blood and engine oils in a disgusting circle around the site.

A thick wave of dust rolled across the nave cutting the thin light into distinct beams that shimmered like water over a large crater blown into the heap of rubble. Glimpses of movement could be seen in the depths of the crater and then came a form, crawling hand over hand out of a hole at the bottom.

Sergeant Toran pulled his body up into the light and the thick dust covering his face making him look like a wraith especially with his augmetic eye glowing a ferocious red. He dragged himself out of the hole with his armour spewing streams of grit from the exhaust vents on his backpack.

Finally he rolled over and lay there sucking in air, feeling something floating in side his chest where nothing should be. All he wanted to do was lay back and feel the hot burn as his gene-forged body pieced itself back together but he forced himself to his feet and gathered his strength. His brothers were still in jeopardy and what was mere pain compared to that.

He turned about throwing himself at the heaps of stonework to begin digging furiously towards his brothers. He lifted great slabs of rock and threw them heedlessly over his shoulder not caring where they came down. On and on he went like and industrial digger but it was frustrating work, he had to move debris from the top of the pile first lest he destabilise the entire mass and crush everyone.

On and on he persisted knowing still every stone he lifted was one less pressing down on the squad. After a few minutes digging he heard a faint knocking sound, he moved towards it and pulled aside a slab to reveal a small cavity containing the shape of Daite digging upwards.

"Give me your hand" shouted Toran as he reached down into the hole and they grasped wrist to wrist then heaved him up into the light. Daite slapped Toran's pauldron with his palm in gratitude but wasted no more time before diving in and assisting Toran to dig. They ploughed into the debris and their armour's artificial fibre bundles whirred as they lifted stones the size of grown men and hurled them away.

A few minutes later they unearthed Halis who shook ash from his visors as they dug out his arms and legs. Swiftly he was freed and without a word joined in the excavations, pulling aside drift of rubble with his gauntlets. A minute later Persion and Ophelian were found wedged between two rocks, they pulled the brothers free one at time and laid them out.

Persion was quickly back on his feet whereas Ophelian was breathing but not responsive, Toran ordered "Daite check him out, Persion take his place on the line."

Soon after that they had found Jediah who came out of the ground in a squeal of ceramite on rocks. His ruptured breastplate had been sharpened by the passage of protruding rocks and now his chest more resembled a collection of knife points than a plate of they uncovered Novak who was still clinging to his broken rapier, they pulled him free and found his armour was surprisingly intact underneath a thick layer of ash.

Novak knocked ash from his visor and said, "Is that everyone?"

"No" replied Toran eyeing the hefty keystone, "Furion is still under there."

Together they approached the Keystone and it was even bigger than Toran had thought. He was amazed that Furion had been able to hold it, let alone the weight pressing down on it from above. While everybody else cleared the debris from the top Toran knelt down at the bottom and cried out,"Furion! Furion hold on, we are coming for you!"

Halis called, "Sergeant, we need to move this quickly."

Toran joined the squad standing around the edge of the key stone and said "As one... Heave!"

With five Space Marines lifting the stone came away easily revealing the broken and incoherent form of Furion underneath. His battleplate was a wreck, the thick reinforced plates smashed, the helm was buckled and around his limbs the ceramite had splintered. Yet despite all that it had held, the nigh mythical Mark III 'Iron armour' withstanding forces that would have pulverised any lesser model of plate.

Daite ran over and knelt down and plugging his auspex scanner into an armour interface, he was no apothecary but he was the best they had. Toran looked on worriedly as Daite assessed readouts from the spirits of Furion's armour while the rest of the squad tried to distract themselves by inspecting their weapons and clearing their debris from their bolters.

After a minute Daite sat back up and said, "Furion is alive, don't ask me how but he is alive."

"He is just too stubborn to die" said Toran full of relief and pride, for there could be no doubt that Furion had saved them all with his epic feat.

"Stubborn or not he is in no condition to be moved and neither is Ophelian" said Daite, "They need the ministrations of an Apothecary, sooner rather than later."

"Then you stay here with them until help comes" said Toran, "Persion head to the surface, contact Fourth Company and get an Apothecary down here straight away."

"You are ordering me to run?" snarled Persion, "I want to be there when you gut that bitch."

Toran replied, "Brother you are the only one with a Vox array capable of reaching the surface, think of your squad mate's lives before your need for vengeance."

Persion was not happy but could not defy an order so snarled, "Very well but when you catch her make sure to give Canesh a bad death: make it slow and painful."

Toran was concerned by the relish in his brother voice and replied, "I will see the Emperor's justice bought down upon her brother but I shall take no enjoyment in it."

Persion snarled, "She deserves to suffer for what she has done!"

Toran sternly replied, "We are Storm Heralds not Marines Malevolent, when we strike we do so cleanly, we do not sully ourselves with torture and sadism."

Behind them Halis snorted and muttered "Nobody ever criticises Jediah for enjoying his work."

"Jediah is not Sergeant" replied Toran, "I am and I will not dishonour a proud legacy stretching back over five thousand years to the Age of Apostacy. If you disagree ask yourself this: What would Furion say?"

Persion glowered but begrudgingly admitted, "He would say Duty must always come first..."

Toran nodded approvingly and said "Good then get to it and one more thing, do not mention the Inquisitor or the Magos to anybody."

Persion cocked his head quizzically and said, "Why shouldn't I?"

Toran stated, "Do you really think it is a good idea to accuse an Inquisitor of Heresy without irrefutable proof... over an unsecured channel in a warzone."

"Well when you put it like that I see your point" replied Persion, "As you order so shall it be." Then he saluted before turning and jogging into the darkness beyond the shrine.

Toran watched him go then checked his weapons and said, "Novak, Jediah, Halis you are coming with me, we have the Emperor's Justice to dispense."


	9. Chapter 9

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter 9**

Deep underground there was a large Atrium, with broad concourses, graceful pillars and bold statues of imperial heroes. Its existence had once been a testament to previous Governor's hubris but now its only purpose was that of a battlefield and it rang with the screams of dying men.

Across the space figures in black and figures in red ran and blasted at each other from point blank range. Hell guns tore through armour with ease and over a dozen men had already fallen, the rest lurked in cover blasting away blindly.

From behind one statue appeared a floating red box ,inching out to hold up an astonishingly rare Volkite Serpenta and firing off long blasts. One lucky shot caught a man full on and incinerated him in a heartbeat, spraying hot ashes all over his comrades.

Into this space charged four Space marines, their armour was greyed, scored and rent but they were ready for battle. Yet the second they emerged from the tunnels half the weapons on the field swung towards them and inundated them with Hellgun fire.

Coherant light punched into their ruined armour and seared their flesh beneath, Pyrus squad instantly dived into cover as the beams soared overhead. It was galling for a Space Marine to seek cover but their armour was a wreck and the weight of fire was remarkable.

Sergeant Toran assessed the situation in his mind, calculating the angles with Transhuman speed and he did not like the results. The hard fact was that the four of them could not beat this many opponents in a three way fight. That they might die was barely a blip in the equation but that one of the Traitors could escape was unacceptable.

Toran risked a glance over the rubble and his head was nearly taken off by a well placed blast, he ducked down and gritted his teeth. They were trapped, pinned between two foes and with no way to change the odds.

Toran tried to lure his enemy out of cover by shouting, "Canesh! How could you do this?!"

From behind a fallen pillar Canesh rose up a fraction and yelled, "I make no apologies, you are too indoctrinated to see the truth. I will not be bound by dogma and short-sightedness, I will do whatever is necessary to pull mankind out of the squalor."

From the other side of the atrium Castabore's boxy form emerged from behind the statue and called out, "Sergeant do not discourse with this Heretek, she has stolen precious STC designs and attacked the Omnissiah's faithful. You must help us defeat her!"

Toran was startled to hear such an appeal and snarled back, "You expect us to help you? You who started this rebellion to snatch up your precious data: you betrayed us, you betrayed the Emperor!"

Castabore was incapable of facial expressions but her voice resounded with confusion as she replied, "That statement is a fallacy, this rebellion has endangered irreplaceable Mechanicus relics. I informed you that my mission is to protect those relics, I would never do something so counter-productive!"

"Then why did you abandon us in mid-battle?" yelled Toran.

Castabore's answer sounded almost matter of fact as she called, "I received an alarm that a Mechanicus shrine had been penetrated and the seals were being violated. I calculated an eighty-seven percent probability that your combat prowess could overcome the odds with only minimal attrition of life. The relics were a higher priority so I acted."

Despite everything Toran inexplicably found himself believing her, the Magos truly did not care about anything other than the relics. He had met enough Tech-priests to know that to them honour and brotherhood were a distant second to efficiency and logic.

Yet this only deepened the mystery, what was truly going on here?

Something nagged at Toran, some tiny detail he had missed before but now floated up the surface of his mind and made him replay his first conversation with Canesh over in his eidetic memory. Then suddenly everything snapped into sharp focus as the truth hit him.

He turned back to Canesh and shouted "You called the Magos a man at first because you had never even heard of her until we told you about her! The only person here who would need to start a rebellion to cover their tracks... is you!"

He roared, "Tell me Canesh: did Castabore betray the Emperor or did you?"

"Kill them!" screamed Canesh as the Strom troopers intensified their fire.

Toran was forced to duck lower as Hellgun blasts chipped away at his cover and yelled, "Magos, we must work together!"

Castabore processed the change in variables in an instant and ordered, "Suppressing Fire!"

Instantly the Skitarii rose up and unleashed a relentless volley, the beams smashing into the Stormtrooper's cover and creating a storm of lightning. The Inquisitorial troopers were good professional soldiers but they were still only men and could not help flinching for moment.

In that instant the Space Marines were up and running.

They charged across the distance at a sprint and before any man could react they dove in amongst the Stormtroopers. Lashing out with fists and bolter stocks to break bones and crush chests.

Novak leapt over a fallen pillar to lash out with boots and fists and shatter all resistance, he was swift and deadly but somehow looked incomplete without a blade in his hand. At the same time a pair of Stormtroopers broke cover and ran screaming at Halis with bayonets fixed. He saw them coming and then he took two steps to the right, watching as they were riddled with Hellgun fire from the Skitarii.

Meanwhile Jediah grabbed a Stormtrooper and pulled him into a bear hug, the razor sharp remains of his jagged breastplate puncturing the carapace armour of the man. They stood there like old friends as the man was impaled on a dozen knife edges and blood ran freely down his legs to drip onto the cold ground.

While his brothers were dealing with the mortals Toran was charging straight towards Canesh with his Chainsword roaring. She rose up and whipped out her energised sword to met him blade to blade.

Toran brought up his chainsword expecting to overpower the slight woman but he had not reckoned upon the master crafted lethality of her power sword. The lighting wreathed edge of the blade met the spinning chainsword and in one smooth movement cut straight through it with barely any resistance at all.

Toran was left holding half a blade as the motor spluttered and died. He almost lost his life in that moment as Canesh followed through and tried to disembowel him. Only his enhanced reflexes kept him alive as without conscious thought he twisted awkwardly to avoid the blow.

He had no time to counter before Canesh struck again, launching a series of strikes any one of which should have ended him. She was good, precise, skilled and fast enough to hint at subtle augmetic enhancements under her armour. Toran was forced to fall back, stepping between blows and deflecting the blade's killing edge with his vambraces, every impact making his ceramite hiss and smoke.

In theory Toran should have easily bested her, he had reach, strength and bulk enough to crush her. Yet her energised blade could cut through ceramite effortlessly and she knew exactly how to use it.

A lucky strike caught Toran's arm with the edge of the blade and carved a deep furrow into the surface, a few degrees more and he would have lost his hand. He almost fell over backwards, his guard dropping and that was when Canesh made her first mistake.

She pulled back with her sword and thrust point first to ram her blade up the hilt in Toran's abdomen. A mortal man would have fallen in screaming agony but he was a Space Marine and the blow barely evoked a grunt. He felt his insides burning but fast as lighting his hand flew out and clamped onto Canesh's wrist, locking her in place.

The Inquisitors' eyes opened wide in shock but before she could react Toran's other hand whipped out and grabbed her around the throat. With a heave he lifted her bodily off the ground armour and all. Canesh let go of her blade to thrash at his arms and kick at the air but it was useless, she was in Toran's grasp and nothing could make him let go.

Slowly Toran wrapped both his hands around Canesh's neck and felt the hatred burning in his heart. This woman had betrayed every bond and oath she had taken for the sake of power. He looked into her eyes and saw the arrogance and contempt seething within and realised how rotten her soul had become.

Above all else he saw her mortal fear and dread at the knowledge her soul had forsaken the light of the Emperor. He could practically taste the terror oozing out of her sweat and it was heady indeed.

For a moment Toran understood his brothers' urgings to make her suffer, to take joy in the moment of the kill. This woman deserved every agony and torment he could inflict and Toran realised deep down there was a tiny corner of his heart that wanted to watch this woman suffer.

No it was fouler than that, he wanted to make her suffer with his own two hands. Some part of him knew just how good it would feel to close his grip millimetre by millimetre and laugh at her futile struggles as he choked her slowly and painfully. He wanted to taste her fear and savour the light fading in her eyes.

In that moment he saw a new future stretching out before him, one stripped of honour but full of bloodlust and slaughter. A future where he cared for nothing save the spilling of blood and the ending of life.

He would become a butcher lord, pretending to fight in the Emperor's name but in truth serving only his own pleasure and amusement. A future where he did not serve others but carved his own path to glory and at the end of that path waited a Throne of Skulls and a roaring red god.

Toran snapped back to reality and was filled with horror and disgust at himself. To abandon his honour and duty would betray more than the Emperor and the teachings of his Primarch: it would be to betray the nobility within himself.

He was ashamed that such potential existed within his soul and swore to himself that he would eternally remain a servant of the Emperor and a son of Roboute Guilliman. He vowed that he would always and forever choose death over before life without honour.

He gathered himself up and looked the Inquisitor still feebly beating on his arms, then in one swift movement he jerked his fists and snapped her neck.

The death was quick and painless, filling the demands of duty and honour without undue suffering. Canesh was dead but it was done the right way, the honourable way.

The way of the Storm Heralds.


	10. Chapter 10

**In Tergum Cultro: Chapter10**

In the ruins of the atrium silence finally fell, the last of the Stormtroopers lay bleeding out and voiding their bowels in death as the victors took stock. The Skitarii and the Space Marines stood apart eyeing each other warily, their temporary alliance was ended and no one knew what would happen next.

Standing alone Toran dropped the corpse of Inquisitor Canesh to the ground and let it lay as it fell then he reached down to pull the energised blade from his abdomen. His Larraman cells flooded the wound and sealed the damage but he knew he would need the attention of an Apothecary once he returned to the Chapter.

The battle had been hard fought and victory was theirs but the true cost of the prize had yet to be revealed. Toran knelt down and searched Canesh's body finding a hololithic device the size of his palm. It flickered mysterious images above the projector that were undoubtedly the lost archive of STC secrets.

Toran looked at the device and could not help but wonder if it was worth the death and betrayal wrought in its name. He sighed and went to stand up but paused and almost as an afterthought he took the Psyk-out grenade too and clipped it to his belt.

Toran straightened and examined his spoils of war; lifting his arm to look at the power sword in his grip. It was clearly a masterpiece of craftsmanship, tested and honed and it shimmered along its edge as his blood burned off. The grip was a little narrow for his hand and the blade somewhat short for his reach but the Chapter's Techmarines could rectify that.

Toran briefly considered keeping the sword for himself but the vows of poverty he had taken upon ascension forbade such hubris. Tradition demanded that the blade would be presented to the Masters of the Chapter who would reconsecrate it and present it to some worthy hero in due course.

While the Sergeant was lost in thought Castabore had floated up from behind her cover and drifted forwards over the cooling bodies. She looked at Toran standing over Canesh's corpse, she made a 'tsk tsk' noise before declaring, "You have deleted an Imperial Inquisitor, this is most perturbing, I must file a full report as soon as possible."

There was a sharp cough and the pair of them turned to look at Halis who had approached quietly, he reached up to pull off his helm revealing a hairless scalp and a clean shaven jaw. He glanced at the corpse of the Inquisitor and said, "I think not… Magos you seem to have forgotten that our armour has visual recording systems too and that we now have detailed footage of you personally killing Inquisitorial personnel."

His mouth twisted in a sly smirk as he said, "It would be most unfortunate if this footage were to fall into the hands of the rest of the Inquisition."

Castabore tensed under her robe and floated higher in indignation as she spat, "Statement: That is Blackmail!"

Toran could see exactly what his cunning brother was attempting to do and grasped the Chapters' need for such an act. Yet it sat ill with him, he had just recommitted himself to the path of honour and he did not want this affair to become base and sordid.

He stepped between them hands raised as he tried to reconcile the conflicting obligations saying, "I prefer to think of it as a long-term working arrangement, you have proof our involvement and we have proof of yours. It will keep everyone trustworthy."

Castabore processed the concept for a moment and there was the faint noise of her cogitators whirring as she ran the variables, then she asked in a suspicious tone of voice, "What do you want?"

Toran replied, "We all know that the high Lords plan to make an example of the Storm Heralds, you will use whatever influence you have to withhold Mechanicus backing for such an endeavour. Without the Tech-Priest's blessing such a motion could never pass through the senatorum, in fact without the Mechancius no Imperial expedition could even leave port."

Castabore sank low on her grav-repulsors and said, "I cannot defy orders from the Fabricator General."

Toran responded, "Then be creative in interpreting your orders, meanwhile I shall be working hard to make sure such orders are never needed. I can assure you that the Storm Heralds shall remain pure as long as I draw breath."

"And the STC archive?" queried Castabore with an undisguised hint of avarice in her voice.

"Keep it" replied Toran tossing her the Hololith, "Consider it gift between friends, it shall remain our secret and none shall know you possess it."

Castabore practically quivered with delight: the knowledge and power he had just handed to her would change her life entirely. She waved a probe over it and the flickering images sped up before her eyes. She crooned over it, drinking in the data then declared, "This bounty from the Omnissiah will revolutionise my technical designs and the information I choose to release could direct Mechcanicus research for centuries to come."

Halis leaned in with a glint in his eye and said, "Do not forget the prestige that will come with it, your star will be in the ascendant among the Tech-Priests. Play your cards right and you could well be master of your own Forge-World one day."

Castabore's head snapped up and flickering lights under her hood showed her mind encompassing this new concept, then she said, "Such a high-ranking Magos would be well advised to have alliances beyond the Skitarii. A Magos who could count upon the support of the Adeptus Astartes could rise high indeed."

Toran nodded and said, "I can assure you the Storm Heralds keep to their vows and stand by their allies."

Castabore floated closer and looked him in the eye as she said "Your proposal is acceptable."

Toran did not smile for such an affectation would be wasted on the Magos sohe said, "Then we have an agreement but before we make grandiose plans let us first dispose of these bodies."

"I suggest you let me handle that" said Castabore holding up her Volkite Serpentia.

"Very well" replied Toran eyeing the exotic weapon, "I look forward to a long and fruitful partnership between us."

He made the sign of the Aquilla and she returned the symbol of the cog. Then Pyrus squad turned and marched away leaving the Mechanicus troops behind to gather up all evidence that they were ever there.

As they walked away Novak glanced back and said, "I am confused, what did we just do?"

"What had to be done" Toran replied, "We have just carved out a new future for the Chapter."


	11. Chapter 11

**+++In Tergum Cultro: Chapter 11+++**

The forward base was a hive of activity, serfs and servitors' rushing between buildings to support their Transhuman Master's every need. Munition trucks and fuel bowsers raced to and fro as victuallers and quarter masters tried to get supplies packed up. From a temporary chapel hymns were projected via loud hailers but were completely drowned out as a Thunderhawk transporter began lifting a pair of Rhinos back into orbit.

Through the bedlam a single Marine walked calmly wearing pale blue robes and unhurriedly taking everything in with one organic and one augmetic eye. He was Sergeant Toran and he had just spent two days in the Apothecarion, his gene-implants may have kept him alive during the mission but he had still needed intensive surgery afterwards. Still he had come off relatively lightly; Furion's injuries were so severe that would be laid out for another week, a troublingly long recovery period for an Astartes.

Toran was on his way to report to his Captain but his route took him near the sentry guns and razorwire of the camp's perimeter. As he walked he could see beyond the marked kill zones to where crowds of humans were gathered in tight knots. These were not former rebels or insurgents but civilian men and women whose only sin had been to survive amongst the heretics.

At the heart of each gathering was a towering Space Marine in full armour, they were reading aloud from prayer tracts or making wild gestures as they preached to the masses. This was the Storm Heralds' typical practice following victory but here the need had been dire: this entire world had blasphemed and the chastisement would be severe.

Toran could see the mortals were listening in rapt attention, but their faces betrayed no sign of religious devotion or adoration. Each and every face was etched with fear and apprehension, anxious that their efforts would be deemed insufficient and the Space Marines would punish them.

In one spot a Space Marine supervised gangs of men working around a bonfire made from burning books. They threw any text that did not laud the Divinity of the Emperor onto the blaze and watched it burn.

Toran saw a gang of men dragging a gagged and bound woman over to the pyre, she kicked and struggled but could not stop what was coming. The gang dragged her up to the bonfire then heaved her into the flames. A terrible shrieking issued forth but the sickening part was that she was obviously no rebel, she had merely been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The men however were not looking at her, instead they were glancing at the armoured Space Marine towering over them, wondering if they had earned his approval or not. Sternly he stared at them as they hurried away to find more people to sacrifice.

Toran knew that across the city this scene would be repeating itself as the populous desperately tried to appease the Emperor's Angels. Toran turned away in disgust and marched away, these dishonourable practices revolted him yet he knew he was not in a position to change things, not yet.

Soon he approached an officers' billet marked with the insignia of Ninth Company. He walked up to the hatch and was met by a serf equerry who must have been expecting him and waved him in without introduction. Inside the billet was bare and functional, merely containing an armour stand supporting a glorious suit of artificer plate; there was also a weapons rack, a small reliquary and a cot.

Most of the space was taken up with a luxurious Nalwood desk, one of the privileges of rank; it bore numerous data slates and one long thin box. Sitting behind the desk in blue robes was Captain Phalros, commander of Devastators, Maestro of long range destruction and the Chapter's Master of Relics.

The Captain was a stern and patrician veteran with cropped grey hair and a hooked nose. Despite many scars his features were still vaguely handsome and his pronounced cheek bones give him a classic silhouette more suited to a senator. He glanced up from a data slate in his hands and waved Toran to sit down without formality.

Toran sat in a high backed chair and waited patiently as Phalros finished his reading. Eventually he set down his slate and then said "So Sergeant it seems your mission made quite an impression, Magos Castabore's report is almost gushing. She is even offering to allow our specialists to partake in select experiments on Forge World Crux Lapis. This is quite a coup for you, the Masters are extremely impressed."

Toran sat ramrod straight and stated, "The Magos and I formed a good working relationship Brother-Captain."

Phalros gave him a penetrating stare and said, "Yet your own report is somewhat bare, the injuries you sustained and the relics you brought back are not consistent with the mission profile."

Toran tried not to fidget or look nervous; there was much that had happened underground that he had been obliged to withhold from his report. It sat ill with him to withhold information from his superiors but the arrangement he had made with Castabore forced him to be economical with the truth.

Above all the Chapter could not afford to be implicated in the death of an Inquisitor.

Phalros' face was filled with suspicion as he said, "There is more going on here I am sure."

Toran neutrally replied, "As I reported a Mechanicus shrine was threatened, we diverted to provide assistance. The Magos was adamant that sacred Mechanicus secrets were not disclosed, we were obliged to swear a vow of silence on the matter."

Every word was true; it was just not the whole truth.

Phalros leaned forwards and said, "I note that none of Pyrus squad have yet preached to the masses."

Toran felt he was on more secure ground and replied, "We sustained severe injuries and are not yet fit to engage in such duties."

Phalros rubbed his chin and said, "Somehow Pyrus squad is always conveniently occupied when the time comes to spread the faith. There is always some false alarm or an anomaly to investigate or a penance to be undertaken, once you even spent three days marching back to base rather than call in a Thunderhawk. Yet the oddest thing is the Chaplains don't seem concerned by this trend, Wrethan in particular seems to view you as his protégé."

He leaned back and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he said, "Someday you must tell me how you managed that."

"Sir?" asked Toran quite confused by this statement.

Phalros replied, "Come now, did not Furion tell you that our cause reaches the highest levels of the Chapter."

It took a long moment for Toran to understand what his Captain was trying to say, then his eyes widened in disbelief as he said "You mean to say you too oppose the proselytising?"

Phalros nodded, "Yes indeed, we have been watching you closely and are pleased by your progress."

"We?" asked Toran.

Phalros said, "I did say the highest levels, the very Highest."

Toran's jaw dropped as he asked, "Chapter Master Gorgall believes as we do?"

"Indeed" said Phalros, "Long has he worked to restore the Storm Heralds to our true duty."

Toran was confused by this revelation and said, "But he is the Chapter Master, why does he not just command an end to the proselytizing?"

Phalros replied bitterly, "Because if Gorgall defies the will of the Chaplains and the Apothecaries he will not remain Chapter Master for long."

Toran was shocked to hear this; he had always assumed the Space Marines were bands of brothers united in purpose. True the lower ranks had been bickering but to hear that the flaws extended all the way to the greatest of them was a shattering truth.

Phalros laced his fingers together and said "Understand some hold that Gorgall is the source of the problem, that his willingness to cooperate with Imperial Adepts is a sign of weakness. Even some of the Captains are saying we need a leader who will break us free of the confining rule of the High Lords."

"That is madness" retorted Toran, "who could possibly replace Gorgall?"

Phalros grimaced as he replied, "Chief Apothecary Lessall."

"Oh" said Toran understanding the scale of the problem, he sat for a moment as the implications set in. Master Lessall was by far the oldest and perhaps most respected member of the Chapter save those heroes interred in Dreadnought armour. Even the most venerable Master could not remember a time when his stern gaze was not watching over them.

When Lessall was but a young Apothecary he served in the Inquisitorial Deathwatch and after many years he had returned battered and scarred. Of the dark deeds he undertook in those times he would not speak, but his eyes were yet haunted by the horrors he witnessed and he retained a bitter hatred for all agents of the Imperium.

Toran swallowed to cover his thoughts then said, "Are there many Captains who would support Lessall?"

"More than would back Gorgall" said Phalros looking grim, "Understand right now only the absolute authority of the Chapter Master's office holds back the dissenters. A storm is brewing and it cannot be averted forever: we need supporters in the highest levels."

Phalros placed his hands flat on the desk and said, "Which is why your name has been presented to First Company for consideration."

Toran was shocked to hear that, First Company was comprised only of the greatest heroes and sternest champions. He was yet young as Space Marines measured such things and had yet to earn glories enough to warrant such a promotion. He realised this was purely a political appointment and that completely tarnished the honour.

He looked up and said diplomatically, "I am honoured to be considered for such glory but feel I am not worthy."

Phalros replied with brutal honesty, "No, you are not yet ready but the eyes of the Masters are upon you and if you continue to excel then you will someday ascend. In the meantime we have decided to present you with this."

Phalros opened the box on his desk and from it brought forth a shining blade. Toran gasped for it was Canesh's sword but worked and reforged for a Space Marines' hand. It shimmered in the light calling to him with its radiance and purity.

Phalros presented to him saying, "It was quite a challenge to reforge, the blade was inlaid with thrice-blessed silver and hexagrammatic wards of surpassing complexity. I suspect there is quite a tale behind its capture but that will have to wait, for now bear it with pride and know you serve the Emperor when you draw it."

Toran took the blade with reverence and said, "Thank you Captain I am humbled indeed… yet I must make one request."

"Oh?" asked Phalros.

"That an inscription be placed upon the blade" said Toran, "Honour above all."

Phalros raised an eyebrow and said, "Does this have some special meaning beyond the obvious?"

"Merely a reminder" said Toran, "That life without honour is meaningless."

The end


End file.
